Unsung
by Lunanimal
Summary: Johnny DiMarco was never what you'd call nice. But after witnessing JT's death, things start spiraling out of control, and all he wants is for things to go back to how they used to be. But is that life gone forever?
1. Prologue: The Scapegoat

**Prologue: The Scapegoat**

I did not kill J.T. Or maybe I did, indirectly. If I had just turned around a half-second sooner...

Whatever. It doesn't matter. As far as the world was concerned, I did kill J.T.

Now, I'm sure you all know what happened. You've all heard the Degrassi students' stories. And yeah, they had it rough. But I bet you haven't heard mine.

You see, Degrassi and Lakehurst had merged into one school. Some sort of fire. If you ask me, which you didn't, I think it was arson.

Lakehurst was better about it all. Some of them avoided me like the plague, and understandably so. A simple rule of survival, really: Stay away from Johnny, stay un-beat up. My friends and I still talked and all, but I saw how they looked at me. I know why. There was enough evidence to prove to a court of law I was innocent, sure- but it seemed there would never be enough for my peers. I heard them whisper as I walked down the hall, I saw the heads turn. "Wasn't that the guy who killed that one kid?" "No, that was his friend." "How do you know? No one was there that night..."

The Degrassi students, on the other hand, needed someone to blame. Some way to get "revenge." And as Drake was safely tucked away in jail, I'd become the scapegoat.

They were trying to make my life living hell. And guess what? They were succeeding. They wanted to punish me.

Did they think I was not being punished enough as it was? I mean, there's the obvious- grounded for life by my parents, even though I was innocent, near daily detentions from fighting so much (the Degrassi students just went to "grief counseling," whatever that was).

Did they think I didn't lie awake every night, haunted by thoughts of that manic gleam in Drake's eyes? Did they think whatever sleeping-pill-induced rest I did get was not filled with nightmares of switchblades and blood?

Because Drake didn't just shatter his own, J.T.'s, and J.T.'s friends' world with his switchblade. He shattered mine. And I wasn't sure I could pick up the pieces.


	2. I'd Rather Forget

**Author's Note: **The thing with this is, I wrote the rough draft before Season 7, but now I'm editing it during Season 7, so... The plot's staying the same, however off the canon plot it may turn out to be, but I am tweaking a few things here and there. Anyhow, enjoy!

**I'd Rather Forget**

I'd accepted the black eye as a permanent aspect of my appearance.

I was almost attached to it, in a weird kind of way. I wore it with pride, like it was a sort of symbol of my endurance.

You see, I got into fights... Well, a lot.

Of course, I'd delivered my fair share of punches. I wasn't about to back down without a fight. I avoided the Degrassi students when possible, but as you might imagine that's kind of hard to do when you go to the same school.

Even the first day, one of JT's friends- "Weiner" as I'd come to know him- was trying to pick a fight. He said I stood there while Drake stabbed JT to death.

That was too much. I'd had enough of his sass. He didn't know what had happened that night. No one did. Except me. And damn, I wish I didn't. Well, he could go to hell, as far as I was concerned.

"Hey Johnny," said Nic, just after the Weiner incident. "Degrassi giving you trouble? I wouldn't mind a fight myself..."

"Yeah. Whatever," I said. Nic. He was normal, at least. There was always Nic. Sure he may have caused all this trouble, but he was normal.

"Listen, we're all going to go play pool tomorrow night, you coming?"

"Sure. Yeah, I'll be there."

"Good," Nic continued. "You've been acting really weird lately. You sure you're okay?"

"Hm? Yeah, I'm fine. I've just been... busy." Busy was not the word to describe me. Maybe the pool thing would be good. I needed something to do.

"'Cause ever since JT-"

"I'll see you tomorrow," I cut in quickly, walking away.

"Tomorrow" Weiner showed up for reasons beyond me. Acting all chummy, said he wanted to make a peace treaty or something. Right after he broadcasted a recording about how much he hated us. While he was talking I amused myself by thinking of all the different ways I could injure him with my pool stick. Anyway, bottom line was: he walked away miraculously unharmed, nothing was accomplished, my friends and I played pool. The end.

x x x

I sat on my bed, fingering my shoelaces. They were a dirty off white, with the little plastic caps missing. My homework was spread out in front of me, but it wasn't like I was actually doing it. My mother checked in periodically, so I just pretended. I'd had enough of her ranting and raving about her "innocent little child," and oh where had he gone? Honestly, what I had to put up with from her...

My thoughts were wandering, back to a night I'd rather forget.

I'd lingered for just a moment, after the whole JT fiasco, still not entirely able to comprehend that I had just witnessed murder, before I heard footsteps and panicked. I ran home, stumbling and tripping.

My thoughts were completely scattered. _We should wipe off the fingerprints. No, then maybe I'd be found guilty! Get away. Damn! Just keep running, run home... Get away from JT, away from Drake, away from everything and tomorrow I'll wake up and this was all just a dream and life will be normal and none of this happened and oh God, this can't have happened. I'm not a murderer!_

When at last I reached the door, I saw that it was locked. Of course I had a key, but instead of unlocking the door like someone intelligent (or sober) I just pounded on it desperately.

My mother answered, gasping. "Johnny! What happened?"

"He's dead!" I croaked. Then I simply passed out.

When I woke up again, I was curled up on the couch and drenched with cold sweat. Taking sharp breaths I sat up, looked around. It was about noon. It had happened. JT was dead. Drake killed him. So where did that leave me?

My mother stormed in, screaming, "How could you?!"

My father grabbed her by the shoulders and said, "Susan. Calm down."

"He murdered a student! I'm not about to calm down!"

"I didn't do it," I said groggily. Talk about a hangover. "It was Drake, I swear, I..." I paused. "...You don't believe me."

"I don't know what to believe anymore!" my mother cried hysterically.

Then there was JT again, a mix of pain and terror and shock on his face as he sank to the ground-

I shook my head, snapping myself out of these thoughts. I would drive myself mad if I kept revisiting that memory. I tried to think of something else, until I realized I had nothing else to think of.

_Maybe I should concentrate on schoolwork,_ I thought. There was no harm in it. What was I supposed to be doing, anyway?

Hm. In Reading we were doing something with Romeo and Juliet. Didn't the Romeo guy stab himself at the end?

I told myself to shut up. _Don't think about anyone getting stabbed._ I took out my math homework- all sorts of crazy imaginary numbers or calculus or, well, who knew what it was. It was hopeless trying to do work.

"I'll take a shower," I said to the wall. "Maybe I can drown myself."


	3. Warped Logic

**Author's Note:** This chapter's pretty long- 4 pages! Sorry for the long wait- I've been having beta troubles, meh. At the moment I am beta-less, so if anyone's interested _please _e-mail me! I hate writing without a beta. And I would like you to not sugar-coat anything- is a sentence worded funny, does that sound like something he would say? I'd also like to say that it would be preffered if you could get it back to me within a few days.

Anyhow, the chapter:

**Warped Logic**

"Adrenaline rush" is just a fancy term for thinking you can do anything and being really, really dumb.

And yet, I loved it. The jolt, the excitement! The feeling of truly being alive! The blood pounding in your ears, the risk of losing everything, acting on impulses, your mind racing and your reflexes top notch! It was a natural high. (One you couldn't get arrested for!)(Usually.)

And, no matter the punishment and no matter the reward, I wouldn't regret it. It was for the moment, it was for the action- not the reason behind the action. It was what I lived for.

Then I met Spinner.

Spinner was... Spinner was. Spinner was every one of my fears rolled up into one big mass of muscle. He was big, he was strong, he hated my guts, he was JT's friend, and he was absolutely _crazy._ Which makes quite a lethal combination, when you think about it.

Of course, it was great for the Weiner, who had become my personal stress ball. Have a nightmare? Pick on the Weiner. My father being an idiot? Pick on the Weiner.

But the Weiner was Spinner's friend, and Spinner had become the Weiner's bodyguard. So I now had to both a) find a new stress ball and b) avoid Spinner at all costs.

But at the same time, Spinner was good for me, if you looked at it from an optimistic point of view (which I did not). I'd never admit it, but he knocked some sense into me. Knocked it very, very hard into me. He reminded me that I was only human. A short human who wasn't as good at fighting as he thought he was. (Had I always been that short? Or was Spinner just really tall?)

It was good to have a rival I could see and feel and punch. One that was a living, breathing human being. One that wasn't dead, or in jail, or myself, or an inanimate object. It took my mind off the wacko world I was living in and forced me back into reality.

I should mention that by this point I was pretty much ignored, which was perfectly fine with me. Why should I care? I had Nic and his crew.

x x x

At some point I got into a tussle with the Weiner. It was nothing serious- just your average pushing and shoving, no one really getting hurt. I don't remember just how it started. But funny stuff kept happening to me whenever I was near him; I would get a headache, or get dizzy, or I couldn't think straight. It freaked me out. And, more relevently, made me very agitated, which wasn't very hard to do those days.

Ms. Degrassi Principal held me back while Mr. Math Teacher held back the Weiner after they noticed- Oh crap, students were fighting again!

"I'm ashamed of you," Ms. Principal said disapprovingly. "Detention, Johnny."

"What about him? He doesn't get detention?" I asked.

"You attacked him," said Ms. Principal. Had I really? Huh. I couldn't remember doing that. Maybe it was that Wiener voodoo thing.

"It was self defense," the Weiner said. "I don't know what _your_ problem is. Your friend didn't die."

I snorted. "Don't pull that! Your friend died, yeah, that sucks. But you have no idea how lucky you have it."

"_Lucky?_" he asked, incredulous. "Excuse me if I don't follow you're warped logic..." Did he not remember me sending him to the hospital, what, last month? Two months? Last week? I'd lost track of time.

"You just had some nurse tell you what happened," I ranted. "I was there. I saw Drake stab him, I watched him die! And you know what the worst part is? I could have stopped it! So easily! I knew what Drake got like when he was drunk, I knew he had a knife but I was just too much of an idiot to put two and two together. And that thought has kept me awake night after night, and..."

And I had just spilled my guts out to the Weiner. Crap! I mentally kicked myself. Why had I done that?

"That's enough," said Ms. Principal, with Mr. Math Teacher watching me curiously.

"I'm not done yet!" I snapped, breaking free of her restraint. And then I punched the Weiner, right then in there, in front of Ms. Principal and Mr. Math Teacher and anyone else who had gathered to see me get in trouble. And oh, it felt _good!_ There was no doubt I had gotten my point across then.

So off I was to detention, to sit in some desk and rot. My home away from home, that detention room. It really wasn't much different from what things were like at my real house, except there was no over-controlling mother breathing down my neck.

I carved my name into the desk boredly. J... O... H... Deeper and deeper, over and over... It wasn't like the teacher noticed. She was so oblivious. Why should she pay attention to me, anyway? I was just one of a million, just another kid who lost his temper.

x x x

"You're home awfully late," I said to my father as he stumbled into the house. I'm not sure what compelled me to wait for him to come home that night; probably just the insomnia. Either way I sat at the kitchen table looking at my father like he was mud on my shoes.

"They kept me overtime at work..."

"So how'd you get drunk on the job?"

"I'm not drunk," he slurred.

"Because it's pretty easy to get drunk when you're screwing random girls at a bar, but at work people tend to notice."

"Don't talk to me like that!"

"Why shouldn't I? It's true."

"I said don't talk to me like that!"

"Make me! What? Are you going to hit me like you hit her?" I gestured towards my parents' room.

"Shut your mouth, boy!"

"So you're just going to pretend it doesn't happen? You honestly think I don't notice?" I stood up and looked him in the eye. "Are you really stupid enough to think I don't hear her crying?"

"Don't call me stupid!" I had been expecting the slap in the face I got for that last remark. It was bound to happen someday, that he'd hit me. Just a matter of time.

"Go to hell," I snarled, then turned and stalked off to my room.

My door had no lock, which would have been infuriating if I hadn't been able to shove my dresser in front of the door. I sighed and sat on the floor, listening to my parents' conversation in the other room.

"Did you hurt him?"

"Go back to sleep, Susan."

"Did you hurt him?" my mother repeated. "You promised me you'd never hit him!"

"He's seventeen. He can handle it."

"But he's your _son!_ Have you forgotten that? Have you ever once told him you love him?"

"Go back to sleep!"

"You're a monster!"

I flinched when my mother shrieked. Damn those paper-thin walls. I rose and walked over to my closet, searching for my stash.

The beer was warm and bitter, but it gave me the buzz I needed. It still didn't drown out my mother yelling, "At least I give a damn about what happens to him!" I looked at my backpack lying on the floor, an idea forming in my head...

Five minutes later I had collected anything that might be useful. I hauled the window open and climbed out, the cool night air hitting my face where I could feel a bruise forming (nothing new about that). I cast one last glance at the house behind me- it was no home of mine- before walking off into the darkness.

x x x

"Johnny."

"'M 'wake," I muttered, almost inaudibly.

"_Johnny!_"

"X equals 53!" I yelped, jerking awake.

Mr. Math Teacher took the paper off my desk and raised his brows. "So it does. Do you always do math in your sleep?"

"What's going on?" I asked grogily. I looking at all the empty desks, then up at the clock at the wall. "Wha- crap! School let out half an hour ago! I- what? I was supposed to meet Nic- I-Why didn't you wake me up?" I frantically shoved all my books into my backpack.

Mr. Math Teacher shrugged. "You looked tired."

"Half an hour!"

"Yeah, I know, you're mother called and-"

"I have to-... And Nic probably thinks... And I and you..." I muttered distractedly, slinging my backpack over my shoulder and walking towards the door.

Mr. Math Teacher blocked the doorway and said, "She told me you haven't been home in three days."

"And I haven't been, now move, I have to leave-"

"Where've you been staying?"

"Let's just say it's a very good thing Wal-Mart's open 24-hours. Now _move_."

"You're mother is on her way. Until then, just calm down-"

I took a step back. "So you're holding me hostage here? Isn't that illegal?" I hurriedly scanned the room. Damn. No windows.

A knock came at the door; Mr. Math Teacher opened it; my mother came stumbling in.

"Johnny, oh thank God! I thought for sure- and then I found out you were still going to school- and oh, you have to come home now-!" She flung herself at me in what I guess she considered a hug. I glared daggers at Mr. Math Teacher over her shoulder.

So I had three days of freedom and then I was back home again, with my mother looking "concerned" and my father not acknowledging my existence at all.


End file.
